


Personal Heroin

by QueenCurphy



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)
Genre: Addiction, Biting, Blood, Blood Addiction, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood Sharing, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Marking, Narcotics, Romance, Rough Sex, Slow Dancing, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 06:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3109145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCurphy/pseuds/QueenCurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She has her addictions, as he does his. Together it makes a very dangerous, yet extremely exciting concoction, which may be hard to overcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Heroin

You're floating, or falling; or neither of the two. The scratchy vinyl playing on the ancient turntable aids your peaceful state, pulling you deeper into an alternative universe in which you're nothing but dust, carried by air. The dull glow from the lamp and the darkness of the night outside the windows mould together and fade out as your eyes roll back in euphoria. 

His hand rests idly on your exposed stomach, you can feel him somewhere, far off in the distance; when did he get home?

"Are you with me?" 

His voice wraps around your head, coaxing you back into reality; the ultraviolet patterns in your vision melt away, and then there's just him. A small hand, which you think may be yours, raises slowly and strokes his angular cheek.

"Adam. You didn't shave."

You smile lazily, watching Adam press each of your fingers to his cold lips in turn. 

"You said you prefer me with a beard."

"That is very true." You feel a giggle escape your chest; followed by a sloppy grin that you can't stop from forming, or you don't want to stop.

"You also said you wouldn't touch this stuff until I got back."

"That is also very true." You really shouldn't laugh, but you do.

He grazes his nose against your palm, and then let's your limp hand fall onto your chest.

You try to roll over on the decades old couch, to find a solid body underneath you as apposed to the worn cushions; you shuffle down, whining at Adam to release you. You throw your bare legs over the arm of the couch, sliding down to rest your head in his lap; he readjusts himself, winding his arm around your naked thighs.

"It's almost as if you're afraid of clothes." 

"I don't like to feel restricted when I'm on a high." You reply half heartedly, as he draws random circles with his icy fingers on your flesh. 

"How many did you take?" 

"Not enough."

He sits you up in one swift tug, knocking the air from your lungs momentarily; the sudden and quick change in your position knocks you off balance, and makes your head spin.

"Adam." You groan; you are not prepared to argue with him tonight.

"I worry about you."

"Why, Adam?"

"It's an addiction, my love."

You snort, chest shaking with the exaggeration of the noise; his brow raises, because he knows what you're about to say next.

"And what would you call your little habit?" You sneer.

"Fucking survival." 

He stands, sliding you from his embrace as he leaves you on the couch; he strides over to the record player, pulling the needle off the antique vinyl. 

"Adam. I'm sorry, I'm an insensitive arsehole." 

The intensity in the room has dragged you into temporary sobriety; Adam looks at you with a gut wrenching lack of emotion, and soon you feel guilt soaking into your heart.

"Adam, please." 

A long, deep breath visibly leaves his lungs; his wide shoulders relax and sag. You smile, this time a genuine smile, and he responds; placing the needle back on the record and making his way back to the sofa with his hand outstretched. 

The buzz of your latest hit lingers in your system, and you smell his cologne with your heightened senses as he brings you to your feet. You bury your head into his chest, inhaling more of his intoxicating scent, hands hanging loosely around his waist. He leads the way, swaying you side to side as your feet shuffle along to his steps; the drugs in your body peak again, making you feel like jelly as you lean into his torso. Flush against his body, he dips his head, shaggy hair falling over his face as he runs his nose over your neck.

"Can you smell it?" You ask; your voice is slurred, and you hate when that happens.

"Yes." He pants, the need to keep control is apparent in his strained tone.

You raise your head, which feels like it weighs a tonne; your green eyes peer into his, and then observe his ghostly white complexion.

"You're so pale, when did you last eat?" 

He continues to move you gracefully around the small space between the TV and the couch; around the coffee table and back again in silence.

"Don't ignore me, Adam. You're weak, you need to eat." 

"Last Tuesday." He murmurs into your ear, his hands tightening around your lower back.

"Adam,"

He spins you before you can finish your sentence, bringing your back to his abdomen; his fingers splay below your breasts, brushing against the hem of your cropped shirt. 

"You must be freezing." He sighs.

You move your hips with his, moving through the cold room in nothing but your vest and panties; and it's then that you realise just how right Adam is.

"Just a little." You reply, raising your arms around his neck, cupping your hands in his matted hair.

"You haven't fed since the last time I visited?" You bring up the topic he'd tried to drop, and you just know he's rolling his eyes behind you.

"It's been three days, love." You conclude, concern in your cracked voice.

Adam buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing slowly and deeply. "You are my personal heroin," he growls, "Nobody satisfies me, like you." 

"Oh Adam, then take what you need; I am yours." 

Your arms drop, holding onto his shirt, excitement and arousal stirring in your blood. As always, he waits for you to give permission to an act you have already blessed a thousand times; it's simply in his nature. A large hand comes up to sweep the tangled hair from your shoulder, exposing your throat to him; his mouth traces over your neck, stopping at the point where your pulse hits your skin erratically. 

"How many did you take?" He asks again, his breath sends shivers through your spine.

"Three, one more than usual."

He hesitates as he weighs the consequences in his head; feeding from you when you're high has never been an major issue, but Adam has been known to change occasionally when he drinks your tainted blood. 

"It'll be okay," he whispers, "I'll be okay."

"I'm not scared. I'm never scared." You whimper, knowing what comes next.

Your eyes blow open as you feel his razor sharp fangs pierce your skin; a sharp hiss of discomfort is quickly swapped for a sigh of pleasure as the sensations take over. He uses his saliva to drown out the pain, and in turn makes a fire light in your gut.

There is nothing else like it, feeding a vampire. It's a beautiful mixture of adrenaline and power; those infatuating creatures know just how to draw you in and make you enjoy it.

He hums hungrily, letting your blood drip slowly onto his tongue, before desire takes over him and he sucks short, sharp hits to your tender flesh. It takes a moment for the extra ingredient in your blood to take affect, but you know instantly when it starts to kick in; he latches himself on, his hips rolling forward as he pushes himself against you.

"How do I taste?" You wonder out loud, knowing fine well that he can't and won't reply. 

He manages to snap back to earth for a millisecond, to gasp in reply; which leads you to believe that you taste better than ever. The drugs have a strange effect on your 'flavour', and curiously, have a larger effect on Adam. Narcotics along with other medication, do not work the same way inside his body as they would a mortal; but mixed with your blood, the substances can make Adam frantic, and extremely aroused. 

Your thighs clench at the thought.

"Adam, darling, stop." You finally utter as you feel your legs weaken.

Thankfully, he pulls away, controlling himself. You turn to him, breath catching in your throat as you watch your own blood run down his chin; his eyes have morphed into planets, the new shade a very bright green. He's breathing heavily, mouth hanging slack and his stained fangs exposed. 

"Adam?" 

He's fast, so fucking fast that he just vanishes; he pops up in your peripheral vision, lounging back on the couch, his legs falling wide open.

"Get over here." He says dryly.

You swallow hard, because it's happening again; and you can't decide if you're more worried than horny. You stumble forward, your feet leading your head; you're not entirely sure if it's a good idea to do so, the change feels different this time, somehow.

"My sweet, beautiful girl." He rasps, pulling you closer once you're within his reach.

You climb onto his lap, thighs on the outside of his, which spreads your legs wide; he takes your face in his palm, thumb running over your trembling lips.

"You're extraordinary, you are a fucking aphrodisiac in your own right." 

He moves his free hand to the other side of your head, pulling you close so he can kiss you deeply. Your head spins, stomach churning as you taste yourself in his mouth; his tongue is coated in crimson, massaging against yours. When he breaks away, he swipes two fingers over his jaw and collects the sticky liquid, bringing it to your parted lips for you to take; your tongue snakes out, lapping up the blood. He watches you with deadly intensity, eyes burning into you; you throw him a grin, before engulfing his digits and sucking with desperation. 

"I have never, in my long existence, wanted to devour someone as badly as you." He hooks his fingers in your mouth and drags you close again, your noses grazing, "It takes every ounce of willpower in my body, to not spread you out and drink you dry."

Your breath hitches when he rolls his hips up, followed by a sharp thrust; you feel his excitement hard and flush against your core, snatching a moan from your lungs. His eyes continue to glaze over as the spiked blood courses throughout him, he's far from over the ecstasy that he's extracted from you, and nowhere near finished with you. 

TO BE CONTINUED...


End file.
